Family Matters
by Actually-An-Alien
Summary: After last episode of season four. Sherlock is extremely bored and needs a case, not that he has to wait for long.
1. chapter 1

**THIS TAKES PLACE AFTER LAST EPISODE IN SEASON SIX. I DO NOT IN ANY WAY OWN SHERLOCK OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. SORRY IF MY WRITING IS TERRIBLE!!!!**

John had moved back into 221B with his child and Sherlock had yet to find another case. He stared at his phone, computer, and the newspaper for hours a day. John had begun to fear he would start using again. John was getting ready to call Lestrade when he heard the lately unfamiliar sound of Sherlocks glee.

"JOHN, JOHN! MORIARTY IS ALIVE LOOK AT THIS." John heard a awful noise that he could only associate with Mrs. Hudsons hand swiping across the detectives face. "OW!! Mrs. Hudson!!"

"Be quiet Sherlock the baby is sleeping." John heard the clank of her heels as John came to the room.

"John, he's alive look at this!!" Sherlock shoved the phone at John before giving him a quick one over. John ignored this and looked at the tele.

 **Wanna play a game, Sherlock? See, the thing is, I was quite impressed with your fall and was hoping I could see what else you have up that sexy coat sleeve of yours. Meet me in the alley.**

 **-JM**

"That's impossible Sherlock, you saw him die!" John refused to believe Sherlocks enemy had risen as well as Sherlock, but as of late, he didn't know what to believe anymore.

"True, but he doesn't have any family, right?" Sherlock then took to his computer, rapidly typing as though hoping to find the impossible. "I knew it! I knew it! John he has two siblings. One: Jeffery and the other Janet. It says here that Janet died a year ago and Jeffery is still alive but is in America."

"You think it is Jeffrey?"

"No, I think it's the dead girl."

"But Sher-" John meant to mention how Jim had faked them out, and the girl could do the same. Although he was interrupted by both a rock crashing through the window neares him and a baby screaming one of Sherlocks favorite things.

"Must be a message!" Sherlock rubbed his hands together and picked up the rock as if it was the most natural thing.

"Oh dear, what happened?" Mrs. Hudson shuffled into the room with a confused look on her face as she threw a broom at Sherlock who ignored it as it landed at his feet. "Nevermind that. Here, I'm not cleaning up your messes. I'm going to get the baby, and I'm _not your housekeeper_!"

John went to pick up the broom but Sherlock stopped him by beginning to read what the rocks message said. "One AM. Alley near you. You'll find me." Sherlock creased his brows as he read the message. "Do you realized how many alleys are near me? I could go off naming about ten that are within five minutes walking." He began talking faster hardly audible to the object as if he was hoping for a response.

"Sher-" Cut off by mindless muttering he tried again, "Sherlock, Sherlock, SHERLOCK WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME." The silence in the room was sudden and fairly uncomfortable. "Sherlock, are you really considering this?"

"Of course I am John. Why wouldn't I."

"Because you could get hurt. I don't need to lose another friend." John began to tear and quickly turned away and went to check on his child.

"Jo-" Sherlock tried to speak but stopped himself for fear of choking up in the process. By the time Sherlock turned around to speak once more John was gone and the screams of the child had halted. Sherlock walked the room as it was only twelve forty five. The minutes seemed to tick by slowly as time blurred together and by the time a million years had passed it was twelve fifty five and Sherlock was walking out the door scarf and jacket on. He walked until he reached the first alley, completely empty. He traveled to eleven more with no luck. At exactly one o'clock Sherlock walked into the thirteenth alley he had traveled to and there did he see a hooded figure. Analyzing the figure failed.

"Hello Mr. Holmes." A female voice escaped the hood.

" _Janet?"_ Sherlock took a step forward and the figure did the same.

"Surprised? Oh, well most are." The woman slid the hood from her body and Sherlock quickly attempted to deduct anything at all. He failed. Sherlock studied the woman's odd choice of clothing, a leather skirt with slits in it and colored tights, then a t-shirt that read "drop dead gorgeous". "Okay Mr. Holmes this my hurt." Before Sherlock knew what was happening he felt a sharp pain in his head and everything went black.

 **SO THAT IS ALL. I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!! PLEASE TELL ME IF IT'S TERRIBLE...**


	2. chapter 2

**OKAY, SO I MEANT SEASON FOUR ON THE EXPLANATION AND I AM VERY IMPRESSED WITH THE LEVEL OF IDIOT I JUST PLACED MYSELF ON BUT HERE IS THE SECOND CHAPTER.**

Four hours. That was how long John had been scouring the streets looking for his arrogant friend. Lestrade went one way, John another, even Sally was searching. It seemed the case of Sherlocks disappearance was a case only Sherlock, himself, could solve. "You see but you do not _observe_." John mimicked the mans voice as he walked through the alleys, "WELL SHERLOCK I'VE BEEN _OBSERVING_ EVERY BLADE OF GRASS AND YET YOU ARE STILL... _gone."_ His voice broke at the last word as he wished for the same thing he had wished for two years earlier. _Don't be dead._ It was at this moment that Mycroft thought it proper to call him.

"Okay, so you think it is James Moriartys brother who kidnapped him."

"Yes. Well at least Sherlock assumed it was Jeffery."

"Why is it always 'JM' with that family? Anyway, I presume you are looking for him."

"Yes." John thought it obvious. It was _Sherlock,_ of course he was going to look for him.

"Well don't-" John cut him off at this absurd request.

"DON'T LOOK FOR HIM? MYCROFT ARE YOU INSANE? WAIT, I FORGOT, YOU ARE. I CAN'T NOT LOOK FOR HIM HE'S MY BEST FRIEND." Confused by the silence at the end of the line John stopped.

"Are you done? Good. Okay, so _as I was saying_ , it is useless to look for him. If this brother is half as good as Moriarty it will be near impossible for amateurs like yourself to find Sherlock." Mycroft finished the sentence and waited for a response, hoping it wouldn't be more shouting.

"I know but we at least have to try, Mycroft, you are the British government. _Please,_ help us look for him." John felt a tear slide down his cheek but managed to keep his voice strong. " _Please,_ act like you care."

"You think I don't care for my brother? You think it was easy allowing him to be beat? You think I _want_ to discover him hurt? Because I don't. I just know that _every minute_ looking down those streets is another broken rib for Sherlock, another step into the grave. I don't need to _act_ like I care, John, I do." Mycrofts voice allowed emotion that John had never heard before, John could hardly keep himself together as he muttered consent and hung up. He could hardly listen to Lestrade and Sally when he told them to stop. And every time he closed his eyes he saw Sherlock hanging limply, all because he was too late. Tears were washed away by the cliche rain that began to pour. He didn't notice that his feet were taking him back to Baker Street, he didn't notice when he walked past a particularly odd alley, he didn't notice the heel print in the mud leading out of the alley, and he definitely didn't notice, or think much of it if he did, the a man slumped against the wall wearing a coat with the collar popped up.

"NOTHING? HE WANTS US TO DO NOTHING?" Frankly, Lestrade had not taken Mycrofts advice well.

"Oh, be quiet dear, the baby is asleep." Mrs. Hudsons eyeliner was smeared and she had faint lines from mascara running down her cheeks, but she still managed to put Johns daughter first

"Freak's got to be somewhere."

"REALLY SALLY? BECAUSE I JUST THOUGHT HE FELL OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH!" Not well at all.

"It makes sense not to look for him. Mycroft is the smart one around here now anyway." Sally defended herself poorly but somehow managed to avoid Lestrades rage.

"We will find him." John spoke quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

"You'd better." Mrs. Hudson said from the couch in the flat. "Or else I may have to kick you out, John."

"OFF TOPIC!"

"Lestrade, _shut up!_ I could hear you from downstairs. Hey, um, where's Sherlock?" Molly Hooper had walked into the room.

"No one called Molly?" John looked around.

"Called me for what? Is everything alright? _Where is Sherlock_?"

"Well, Molly, y'see-" John spoke trying to explain the predicament to her.

"HE'S BLOODY MISSING."

"Wha-what... he can't be missing. He's Sherlock, right? He's fine, right? Nononononononono." Molly say down in the couch next to Mrs. Hudson. "How? Who? When?" Each word seemed to come out of her mouth at the same time.

"We don't know for sure." Johns eyes began to swell again and he was not going to cry in front of any of these people, "I'm going to go to the baby." He ran out of the room as if he thought there might be a murderer in the childs room. But barely made it up the stairs before he broke and tears began streaming down his face. "Not again, not again, _not again._ Don't be dead, Sherlock, don't be dead again." He slumped onto the stair until he managed the energy to climb upstairs, where he managed to let go of a few more tears before he drifted off into an unwelcome, though much needed sleep.


End file.
